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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24154096">The Face of a Friend</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/fencecollapsed/pseuds/fencecollapsed'>fencecollapsed</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals - Team StarKid</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Bad Ending, Body Horror, Canon Compliant, Dismemberment, Emotional Hurt, Gore, Healing, Heavy Angst, Vomiting</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 19:49:19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>919</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24154096</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/fencecollapsed/pseuds/fencecollapsed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After the explosion, Paul still has a bit of fight left in him. The Hive takes a gentler approach this time.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bill &amp; Paul Matthews</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>81</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Face of a Friend</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I just think the Hive could've gotten more mileage out of Bill being Paul's best friend</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>When Paul woke up, the first thing he did was scream. The second was vomit.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His body was </span>
  <em>
    <span>gone.</span>
  </em>
  <span> His gaze trailed down his torso and halfway down it just stopped, in a mess of ash, intestines and carnage, his torn-up shirt splattered in blue. He tried to pull himself away but found the arm he had left didn't take kindly to weight bearing. His head smacked on the floor, the ringing of his ears a backdrop to the soft piano all around him. It stayed down, his neck wouldn't lift. It didn't hurt, though, none of it hurt. Maybe that was worse.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Shh, Paul, it's fine." A gentle voice suddenly came from behind him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Paul felt himself hefted into a pair of arms, his head braced on their chest, their hand combing into his hair.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You're alright, Paul. You're gonna heal."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Paul let his head twist loosely, his nose digging into his holder's chest. He looked up into the bright blue eyes of his dead best friend.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>"Biiiill?"</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He smiled. A little too warmly - it almost seemed smug.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>"Mhm."</span>
  </em>
  <span> He hummed. </span>
  <em>
    <span>"It's almost over now, almost done. Very soon you'll be one."</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Paul swallowed thickly, trying to keep the notes from escaping. "I don't w-</span>
  <em>
    <span>want</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be-"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Shh…" Bill pet his hair. Paul felt a hum escape him, melting under the affection. "We're not threatening anymore, Paul. You're safe."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Paul cast a hesitant look at the carnage of his torso. When he squinted he could see his legs, bent and broken, at the other end of the theatre aisle. He swallowed the vomit in his throat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"S-</span>
  <em>
    <span>saaafe?"</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You'll heal, don't worry. We're with you."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Another squint and Paul noticed his legs were </span>
  <em>
    <span>moving.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Not gracefully, more like a broken android. Jerky knees, crooked ankles, kicking out over the floor blindly. The decimated limbs dragged themselves towards him agonizingly slowly. Wherever his missing arm was it was probably doing the same. They would reattach, like some kind of grotesque zombie Frankenstein monster. However that would happen, Paul knew he wouldn't want to watch. Bill did, too, apparently, turning Paul's head and pressing his face into his chest to avert his gaze. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Just let it happen, it won't take long."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Paul choked on the bile stuck in his throat. Blue rolled down his chin. He didn't want to let it happen - maybe if he resisted his body would just die. That would be better than what awaited him. The music, slowly growing louder. The emptiness behind Bill's eyes. No, no, Paul was still sentient. He couldn't lose himself like that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Now it was hurting. Now it was burning, agonizing. It was unbearable, raw pain surging in every inch of his body. Now he was fully aware that the carnage he saw was </span>
  <em>
    <span>him,</span>
  </em>
  <span> now he could </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel</span>
  </em>
  <span> it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His scream shredded his throat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Come on, Paul, you know you're only making it worse." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>One of Bill's hands found Paul's, tracing small circles into his scabbed palm. He used to do that when Paul was anxious. This wasn't Bill, he knew that, but that didn't stop it from feeling like him. His arms, his touch, his voice. His best friend, dead but still holding him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You always do this." Bill said. "I tried so many times to reach out, because I knew something was wrong. We could have kept each other company, we could have helped each other, but you never let me."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Paul choked again, watching the blue seep into Bill's shirt. "I d-don't know what you're talking about,"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Sure you do."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Paul sniffled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Something nudged against Bill's foot. He shifted to pick up Paul's mangled grenade-throwing arm, dragging its way back to its body. He held Paul's head closer to his chest.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Don't look, okay?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Paul obeyed. Bill began humming, a gentle little tune, and Paul found himself unable to resist its calming sway over him. The pain lifted away, the numbness returning. Bill positioned the arm beside its socket. Blue ooze stretched from the open wound, twining together like thread to hold the arm in place. Paul's body reconstructed him slowly, and he winced, the feeling beginning to return to his arm. It hung loose off his shoulder, like he was a broken doll. Instinctually he nestled closer to Bill, his restored arm clumsily clinging to the back of his shirt.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"See, you trust me. You trust us."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Paul found himself nodding. The more Bill sang the calmer he felt. Comfortable contentment welled within him, though his grip on his own mind began to slip.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>"Saaafe,"</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"We're best friends, Paul. Of course you're safe with me."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Y-</span>
  <em>
    <span>you weren't,"</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Shh. None of that matters. We all got what we wanted, and so will you. Just relax."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Paul had no choice. The music was getting louder, more overpowering. The fog in his head thicker. His legs hadn't reached him yet, it wasn't like he could get up to try and escape anyway, and if he fought back the pain would just kill him faster.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>"Okaaay,"</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His eyes fell shut. He buried his face in Bill's chest, allowing himself to pretend it was really him. This Bill was a good actor - his voice was soft enough, his embrace warm enough. That was the point, Paul figured, and it had worked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He relinquished himself, allowing the infection to take over. He slipped into sleep, his body limp and lifeless for just a moment before his eyes opened again, brightly aglow but empty of the man they once belonged to.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I just really like Paul dying in someone's arms huh<br/>Thanks for reading! &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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